


Sanctuary

by GenesisArclite



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex - Fandom, Deus Ex: Mankind Divided
Genre: Budding Love, Character Study, Desire, Emotional Baggage, F/M, Introspection, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Post-Canon, Post-Deus Ex: Mankind Divided, Rare Pairings, Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-23 13:12:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15607032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenesisArclite/pseuds/GenesisArclite
Summary: Adam Jensen's apartment is his sanctuary, a place where he can be himself, closed off from the world. The walls he erected were done so with care, but they couldn't stop TF29 quartermaster Aria Argento. Not that he really wanted them to. Aria had always been kind to him. Always worried. Always smiled.A study of a man who clings to the past while desperate for a future, and the woman who noticed him.





	1. Part I

**_Sanctuary - Part I_ **

The London debrief took several hours to finish. Everyone had been shook up somehow, and it was unnerving knowing that  _no one_  outside TF29 knew what was going. It was unnerving knowing how  _close_  everyone had come to losing a group of innocents, or opening the door to something worse. Unnerving knowing that hundreds  _more_  could have died, had he not been fast enough. Unnerving knowing what could have happened, had Brown not been there to stall the Human Restoration Act and prevent the permanent segregation of Augs and Naturals.

In the wake of that moment, after Alex left and the sun fell below the horizon, the world went very, very still.

And that was even  _more_  unsettling.

Action, movement, noise, life and death… that, he could handle. That felt normal to him. Natural. Sitting quietly in the shadows, the lights turned low, the noise of Prague dulled by the blinds… that, he could  _not_  handle. When the shadows were so thick that he couldn't see any detail within them, when no one needed him and he had no reason to leave, when he could shed his gear and sit quietly on the couch and  _think_ …

He didn't like it. At all.

The apartment was his sanctuary. Here, he did not have to be Agent Jensen. He had to be nothing for no one. He could be alone with his thoughts, chasing each other within his head, which terrified him, but it was a familiar terror that he found somehow comforting, and it didn't bother him as much as it should.

And with no jobs, no assignments, an order from the higher-ups for over half the Prague branch to take extended leave…

He didn't know what to do.

That first day, he spent an hour in bed, dozing off occasionally, but mostly lying awake, thinking. Then, he paced around his apartment, restless, a cat in a gilded pen, glancing through the blinds and shivering in the cold. Turning up the heat meant a higher electricity bill – not that he paid it, but still – and risking upsetting the careful equilibrium that was his core temperature. Pacing and a shower kept him warm.

When he finally ventured outside, he found fewer police on the streets, despite the tense atmosphere. The bloodshed of the last curfew, the death of Talos Rucker, how close the Human Restoration Act had come to becoming law, the ongoing debate of Augs versus Naturals, the continued belief that ARC was the enemy… it all hung over the city like the chilly morning mist, blanketing what little hope and optimism remained in gray. Still, there  _were_  fewer officers out, and though some of them still glared, none had much to say this time. Perhaps they had been told to be less aggressive, or something else was going on, but it meant he could walk in peace.

There were still checkpoints and papers to deal with. There always would be, he knew. It wouldn't go away anytime soon. But for the moment, things were peaceful.

He didn't like it.

The second day, he realized he had left a few items he would rather keep in his apartment on his desk and ventured out early, before the sun rose but just as the sky had begun to turn pink, a very cold autumnal rain drizzling out of the sky and down his neck, below the collar. It made goosebumps shoot up all across his skin, but he didn't mind, because it meant he was still alive, and still human. He crunch-splashed through puddles that had partially frozen over, and had to fold his arms in tight to his chest to keep some of the chill out, despite the stillness of the air. Detroit had  _far_  colder winters, of course, when temperatures dropped below zero and snow fell for days, but Prague's damp, icy air felt somehow different, like little knives stabbing into his cheeks and digging into his back.

He looked up. Over the tops of the buildings hung gray clouds and a faint, pinkish mist. After getting out of the metro, he began to spy shafts of golden light cutting across the sky; he blinked as he tipped his head back and the icy cold droplets spattered his skin and shed from the shields over his eyes, coated as they were in a hydrophobic outer layer, again running down his neck, where they caused quite a bit of discomfort.

The doors of Praha Dovos were shut tight, but the lights in the lobby were on. Someone inside swept the corners with a broom and dustpan, giving him a sidelong glance when he came in and nodded before continuing on. A swipe of his keycard, and he had begun his descent below Prague's streets. The air grew warmer the further he went; he grasped the edges of the coat and shook it, sending water droplets flying. This morning, he had worn the leather one with the golden flower pattern across the shoulders, so it shed the water easily enough, though the moisture did make the scent of well-kept leather seem even stronger than usual.

He had expected someone from the Juggernaut Collective to reach out to him, but they had, surprisingly, left him alone. Or, maybe they were being unusually kind to him – he  _was_  tired, and even Alex picked up on that. A week's worth of running himself ragged and barely sleeping had caught up to him.

And despite his resolve to sleep past five these mornings, he kept waking up at four.

He smirked a little. Early to rise, but rarely early to bed. He could subsist on little sleep for a long time, but even his heavily-augmented body had its limits.

The doors slid open with a hiss to provide him a view of a TF29 that was far quieter than he was used to, setting him even more on edge. But there was nothing  _wrong_  here, right? They had just been sent home, on orders from Miller, and just… hadn't been called back in yet. Still, he didn't like having the open door at his back, and felt his body tense at the sensation of walking into such an open area.  _Nothing to worry about_ , he thought, but the words did little to quell his unease.

He glanced automatically to his left, but she wasn't there anymore, he reminded himself. She was upstairs, at her new desk, not that far from where  _he_  sat, probably bent over her terminal and muttering to herself.

If she was here at all, of course.

He nodded to anyone who glanced his way as he went. No matter what went on in the upper ranks, or who pulled the strings, as far as  _he_  knew, these people were all innocents. Even if the Illuminati had a hand in TF29's operations, the people at the desks, running errands, gossiping when no one was looking, were innocent. It wouldn't do any good to treat them as anything else, and honestly, he didn't want to. Thousands of miles away from home, in a city and on a continent he had only just begun to become comfortable in, he could use any grounding he could get.

The metal stairs sounded loud in the silence, lit by soft blue lights that cast his shadow in strange, sharp lines as he ascended to the second floor. Though it disappeared once he became surrounded by the other ambient lighting, he could still  _feel_  it, somehow, creeping unseen around him.

He gritted his teeth. He needed more sleep, if he was jumping at his  _own_  shadow.

The Counterterrorism room was open, most of the desks vacated and MacReady's office dark. He only saw two people at their terminals, both glancing up but then going immediately back to their work, and as he moved to his own and collected the random trash that had decided to multiply when he wasn't looking – not that  _he_  had anything to do with it, and not that he managed to  _not_  hit the wastebasket more than once – he glanced over his shoulder at another desk.

Aria wasn't there, and he felt a twinge of disappointment.

He turned back to his desk, scraped all the trash into a pile, and pushed it all into the dustbin. Packing peanuts fell by the wayside, making him grunt in annoyance as he bent to pluck them, one by one, off the floor. Several escaped in the process; he scooped them back up and delivered them to their rightful place in the bin. There. Now it no longer looked like a box had exploded its foam peanut entrails all over the place.

He paused. He wasn't even fooling himself at this point. Aria had been the kindest person to him by far, and he found her consistent concern for his wellbeing –  _honest_  concern, where she asked for nothing in return but the truth – both perplexing beyond all his attempts to quantify it, and charming. When Delara asked if he was okay, it sent uneasy prickles up his spine, but when Aria did, warmth always reached his heart, even if only for a moment. Even when she had been nothing more than TF29's quartermaster, and been denied all her requests to be out in the field, she hadn't let it get to her, and always spared some positivity for him.

During the debriefing, MacReady had pointedly talked about the performance of his team, naming each individually, and at her name, he looked directly at her with an expression Adam could only say reminded him of a proud teacher, to which she had sat up straighter, eyes widening. Despite working against her for what seemed to be months, Mac had finally accepted her as one of his team, and  _that_  meant more than any pat on the back.

Afterward, Adam had personally congratulated her, and she had been at a loss for words, stumbling over several sentence starters before finally smiling and settling on a "thanks".

For reasons he didn't want to dwell on, she gave  _his_  words real weight, absorbed them, met his eyes when he spoke and never flinched or lost her nerve. She was a warrior, despite her demeanor, and perceived him as someone worth listening to. Perhaps she appreciated  _his_  honesty in turn.

Again, he glanced at her desk, and there was no mistaking the disappointment this time. Now that she could be sent out on missions at MacReady and Miller's whims, he wondered when he would see her again.

He frowned, collected the items he had come for – a paper he needed to take home and read, a book left for him by one of the other team members, and the tiny model car he kept shamefully shoved in the corner as of late – and pocketed them, then looked at her desk again before catching himself.

He had never really  _perceived_  himself as lonely before, but once others had begun to creep back into his life, he had slowly realized that… he kind of was. Yet, opening up to people wasn't something he wanted to do. TF29 and the Juggernaut Collective could "know" him for years and years, and they would never  _know_  him. An open heart led to things he couldn't control, and people would use what they knew of him if they could. It was best to keep it sealed up. After all, if he couldn't keep himself safe, powerful people could find things out and dangle them over his head, and then what good would he be?

For a moment, he thought of Megan, then banished it as soon as it had come.

He exited the building again to find a golden sky, the rain having stopped and the pink tinge gone. For a moment, he stood in the middle of the street, head tipped back, staring at the sky. It was peaceful this morning, and in spite of being out in the open, it didn't make him nearly as unsettled as the interior of TF29's offices.

When he caught an officer glaring at him from an expressionless helmet, he moved on, back to the metro and his apartment, his sanctuary, where he untied the knot around his thoughts as soon as he crossed the threshold.

Not the wisest idea, he realized immediately, as he shut the door and stared into the mess that was his mind – a jumbled mass of colors and shapes beneath a gray-blue sky, dumped without any forethought and now all begging for his attention at once. He closed himself off from outside stimuli and went through the motions, wrapped up in those thoughts, hanging his coat neatly and turning off all the lights except for the one in the entryway, then opening the blinds enough to let the light of the still-rising sun inside.

Then he stripped off his shirt and tossed it aside, settling on the sofa with his arms resting on his knees.

He had an indeterminate number of days of  _this_  ahead of him, hours and hours of being alone with himself, allowed to think and process everything that had happened. Dangerous. His mind wandered a thousand directions – the experimental augs tucked away inside his body, Janus and the Juggernaut Collective, Marchenko prowling in prison and hopefully to be kept there a long time yet, the existence of Orchid, the searing pain that had been the weapon's brutal attack on his system, the bombing, losing Allison to the machine cult…

…and Megan, hearing her voice for the first time in two years.

Adam squeezed his eyes tight shut and rubbed his temples with his fingertips. Megan was a sore spot, dulled by time, that didn't hurt anymore, but somewhere in the deepest recesses of his heart, he still felt her fingers on his skin and her voice in his ear. Easy enough to forget and push down. Harder to release.

Absorbed in his thoughts, he stood and paced the entire length of the apartment several times, listening to the soft whir of servos as he moved. He had gotten well-used to his augs, treating them as natural elements of his body, and no longer felt a jolt when he caught his reflection. If he couldn't change what he had become, then it was time to simply accept it and move on. In a world where his kind– where  _augmented humans_  were seen as villains, the last thing he needed to was show any sort of uncertainty or weakness about his predicament.

Eventually, he quieted his thoughts enough to sit back down on the sofa and turn the television on, switching it away from Picus's continuous broadcast to some of Europe's other offerings. Some of them were in English, and a little poking around located a few broadcasts out of North America, though run through European feeds. Trying to make himself relax in the cold and the quiet, he settled in and tried not to think.

* * *

The next day proceeded much the same, with no messages from the Collective and zero from TF29. With nothing to do except whatever he very well pleased, he sat on the edge of his bed and stared out the window a long time, then got up and dressed before exiting into cool, damp morning air. The sun hadn't risen yet – it was five-thirty in the morning, and while he spotted a few lit windows in his complex, most were dark.

Technically, augs weren't supposed to be out this early, but he found it difficult to care.

He hadn't noticed before, but the number of drones in the sky had decreased, and only one hovered outside his apartment complex, paying him no mind at all. The fountain hadn't been cleaned of the greenish slime that gathered around its edges, and it still assaulted his senses as he passed, but the soft sound of water playing in its basin was calming.

He crossed the city to the plaza overlooking the water, where he leaned against the railing and gazed through the morning mist over the river at the Palisade Blade. It glowed a soft blue, igniting the surrounding fog into a colorful play of light, while water lapped at the wall below his feet, the current drawing it further inland.

A chill crept down his spine; goosebumps rose across his skin. No orders from the Collective, not a word from TF29, no leads to follow – just wandering in the quiet that was Prague and trying to appreciate the time off, but with nothing to do and nowhere to go, his thoughts chased themselves endlessly, and his mind felt like a knot of feeling and mild insanity that he couldn't undo.

He headed west. If anything could take his mind off his  _mind_ , it would be the range. Keeping his skills sharp, searching for weaknesses, achieving a score that bested  _someone_ … these were all things he could do. He could call on years of training and the additional knowledge he had gained, find out if there were weaknesses, and take care of it.

These were things that were tangible, that he could fix, that he could  _control_.

TF29 was quiet again, though a few more people were present. He glanced at the quartermaster's desk without thinking to find Aria's replacement there, jolting him out of his thoughts.

"Good morning, Mr. Jensen." The new quartermaster was shorter than him and thin, but he stood up straight and looked him right in the eye. "Ready to use the range this morning?"

He nodded, saying, "How'd you guess?"

"Eh. I'll log you in the system for scoring. Oh, and you'll have competition. Someone else is already down there."

"Someone else?" Adam glanced at the tinted windows shielding this floor from the range and frowned a little, having not heard the sound of any weapons firing. "Who?"

"Aria. She's been down there a good ten or fifteen minutes now."

Adam studied the smaller man a moment before nodding slowly, thanking him, and turning away. He dropped his coat in one of the locker and swiped the card that opened the range. As the door slid open, he heard a single, suppressed pistol shot, pinging off a distant target; he moved to the side, enough to see Aria at one of the firing zones in a ready stance, pistol level. He stayed back, watching as she picked a new target and squeezed off another shot.

 _Ping_. The target descended into the floor.

Aria muttered something and ejected the now-empty clip, picking another one up and sliding it in, checked the safety, and examined it a moment before eyeing the target again. Only then did he say, "Hey, Aria."

Her focused expression immediately dissipated; she looked at him through the protective eyewear, then tugged it off. "Hey, Adam," she said, the familiar warmth of her voice relaxing his mind. "How've you been, not having anything to do?"

"Can't say it's been what I would've done on my own, so I decided to come here, try and relax."

She nodded, reseating the eyewear. "Trying for a high score?"

"I'm… not sure yet." He glanced at the targets. He only carried nonlethal weapons on him lately, so he picked up one of the training pistols and loaded it with normal rounds. "Glad someone's here, though. A little competition is good. I can't seem to keep my thoughts quiet."

"I know the feeling," she muttered, and fired. The shot nailed one target directly in the center of the bullseye; he nodded to her in approval, and she smiled a little. "After that last op, I haven't been able to sit still."

He picked up a silencer and attached it to the pistol. "Get those results back from Auzenne yet?"

"Nope. She's takin' her sweet time."  _Ping_. She swore softly.

"Huh. Still like her?"

"She seems nice enough. I just hate what she has to do. Did an eval on me after London, and it wasn't fun." She fired several shots in succession, and each struck the target in a cluster; he watched with one brow raised. While he had heard she was a good marksman, this was the first time he had actually  _seen_  it.

He looked at her a moment while she changed targets and lined up again. Perfect stance and balance, an expression of pure concentration, the line from shoulder to barrel tip exactly the way it should be.

He chastised himself and aimed. Squeezed the trigger.  _Ping_.

"Nice try," she said, amused.

"I was warming up," was his response as he lined up another shot. The second hit the target, but near one of the outermost rings; he wrinkled his brow as he readjusted and fired a third time. That shot struck closer to the center, a hair's breadth away from one of hers. "There," he said, glancing at her. "Do better."

"Bet I can fire right through one of yours."

"I would  _love_  to see you try."

She snorted softly and fired. The shot struck the target very near to one of his, as did the second. The third and fourth went wild, closer to the center rings, and she groaned.

He shrugged. "You got close. How's that bet workin' out?"

"Oh, you wanna make it a  _real_  bet now?" She peered at him through the protective goggles, and they seemed to make her already large, dark eyes seem even larger, and the way she gazed from under long, thick lashes momentarily made him forget how to speak. "What're we betting for?"

He blinked. "I… don't know. What've you got in mind?"

She made an obvious attempt not to smile before it broke out for real. "Nothing, really, Adam, I'm just messing with you."

Disappointment made an unwelcome visit before he kicked it back out. "I see."

Again, she fired, hitting the target in a middle ring. "So, what've you been up to, besides going stir crazy? Done anything interesting? Had any fun?" She lowered the pistol with her finger above the trigger, engaging the safety and checking the chamber, before sliding it into her holster and looking at him.

"Not really. Just been pacing around in my apartment, keeping to myself. You?"

She sighed. "The same. Don't know a lot of people in the area, and while everyone's nice, they haven't exactly made a point of making me a friend." The smile briefly returned before slipping off again. "If you were going back into town, I might ask if I could go with you, but you're probably headed back home, right?"

"Yeah, was planning on it. Maybe another time."

"I like the sound of that." She nodded. "Well, I should get going. Got chores to do."

It took a moment for his brain to catch up with what his mouth had just done, and he felt immensely foolish. He had turned her down without a second thought – automatically, even – and only now realized that she had been trying to gently find a way to spend more time with him, without being obvious about it, and it had actually  _worked_  on him.

She had just offered her time, and he had  _turned her down_.

"Ah… Aria?" The way her name so uncharacteristically stumbled out of his mouth startled him, but he kept his expression neutral, though it  _almost_  cracked when she looked back at him, sliding the goggles off, bits of hair having fallen loose and dangling around her eyes, framing them in messy brown wisps.

"Yeah?"

"When you're… done with… whatever you'll be doing, feel free to stop by."

Surprise reached her face, an instant before she caught it. "Adam, I don't even know where you live. Well, I mean, I know  _where_  you live, but not which  _apartment_  you live  _in_. Besides, I'm not going to intrude on your quiet time."

"I was–" He lightly cleared his throat, hoping she didn't notice. "I'm offering, if you want to."

"Ah, well… I'll consider it." She pursed her lips. "Apartment number?"

"Forty-three. That's the uppermost level. Just knock."

"What, and you'll just know it's me?"

He hesitated. "I don't… get many visitors, so… yeah." For reasons that escaped him, that he didn't want to consider too long, that terrified him, he found himself tripping over his own tongue and struggling to get the words out right. Not completely unlike him – he could recall doing something similar in the distant past – but something about the way she looked at him, how she gave him her complete attention, how her eyes studied him, how she rested a hand on her hip and raised an eyebrow, got under his skin, unpleasant but not  _unwelcome_.

"Well, if I happen by, I guess… I mean, I'll see if I can make it, okay? That's… I can offer that."

He nodded. "That's all I'm asking for."

She returned the nod, seemed to consider this a moment, and gave him a half-smile. "Take care of yourself, Adam, in the meantime," she said, and turned away, heading for the exit of the range.

"Always," he murmured, watching her go.

* * *

In the evening, the weather cooled, and a cold drizzle fell out of the sky. He kept the blinds open, allowing him to watch the sunset fade and the sky turn inky black as the glow of the city began to spread. From here, one of the Blades glowed bright blue, seen edge-on from where he stood in the alcove and gazed outside. Prague looked beautiful at night, though he missed Detroit's bustling sense of life and its verticality, but even if he hadn't had much choice in being relocated here, at least he had ended up in a city that didn't assault his aesthetics. For all the shadows, all the run-down buildings, and all that came with its stance on augmented citizens, the simplicity of its design shined through.

It was nearly nineteen hundred, and his body called for sleep, but his mind had still not quieted fully, thoughts racing through it as he tried to parse them. If he were to lay down  _now_ , he would keep thinking, and even when he fell asleep, his dreams would bring the words in his mind to life.

And in the back of it all, he wanted to wait just a few minutes longer, just to see if that knock would ever come.

It had been "just a few minutes longer" for nearly three hours now.

He leaned– no,  _sagged_  against the wall, lowering his chin close to his chest, closing his eyes, the cool, damp air prickling across his exposed torso and making him at least feel alive and real. Long ago, when Megan had been in his life, he had sometimes stayed up for hours waiting for her to come home, willingly, though she hadn't always showed him the same sort of courtesy. Though Aria had seemed genuinely interested, the doubts had begun to creep in – perhaps she had just been polite. Maybe she was just being nice. Maybe, once out of sight, she forgot about him.

Maybe she simply wasn't in the area, he told himself.

Besides, if she showed up, he would have to put on a shirt… wouldn't he?

Opening his eyes again, he looked down at himself – at the evidence of heavy augmentation all across his body, at the fusing of metal and flesh at each shoulder – and considered. She wouldn't want to see this. Even to him, after two years to get used to how his body had been so savagely torn apart and put back together as half-machine, it still unsettled him a little. The first time she got a good look at him, she wouldn't want to do it again. She might even fear him.

Both hands rubbed across his face. People on the street were wary of him. They kept their distance, even when they were fellow Augs. He had become accustomed to the stares, the sidelong glances, the slurs, the whispers behind his back, the way they suddenly looked away when he got too close. If she ever looked at him like they did, because of what he was…

No, she wasn't coming. If she were going to show up, she would have by now.

He turned all the lights off except the bulbs dangling over the kitchen, liking the soft, golden warmth they brought to the darkness and the way they cast long, muted shadows. He closed the blinds, too, dulling the sound of the rain pattering on the windowsill, though soft blue light still came in through the bathroom windows. Once he had ensured everything was secure, he headed toward the back of the apartment, ready to remove what clothing was left and succumb to sleep whenever his mind would quiet enough for that to happen.

That, then, was when the soft sound of knocking came at his door.

A jolt raced up his spine; he froze and looked back at the door. No, it couldn't be, not now. She would  _never_ have a reason to come into the poor part of town this late at night. No, it had to be someone else – a neighbor or an unruly drunkard, maybe, someone he could easily shoo away.

Yet despite himself, he felt his heart beating rapidly in his chest, and had to swallow and remember to breathe slowly. It would do no good to open the door in a panic.

He grasped the handle and turned it, hearing it unlock automatically as he did.

The sound of rain hissing on the pavement, on the railing, on fabric, quickly faded into the background as his eyes adjusted to the change in lighting. Before him stood a woman, shorter than him, hair loose around her shoulders, and as he studied her face, the realization of who she was dawned slowly over him.

"Hey, Adam." Aria's voice was shy, but warm; her eyes darted over him before returning to his, reminding him rather suddenly that he'd neglected the shirt after all. "Sorry about the delay. Glad you're still awake."

His heart hadn't calmed down. "Aria, you made it." He blinked, swallowed, and stepped back, opening the door a little wider. "Here, come in. You're soaked."

"It's raining like a mother out here." She stepped over the threshold and shook herself rather like a dog before shrugging off her jacket, which dripped water all over, but he didn't care at all as he took it from her and set it on the one remaining hook that wasn't taken up by his own coats. She ran her fingers through her hair, which had been pinned back out of her face, but most of it allowed to fall free, and shook out more water. "Oh…" Her gaze fell to the floor and the puddle of water she had left. "I'm… I'm really sorry about that."

"It's just water, Aria, it's fine." He looked her over, noting her long-sleeved shirt and practical pants, both of which were at least damp, the pants very wet toward the hems, and that she wore little else other than gloves, which she now peeled off and hung over her jacket.

"Wow, this is… this is nice. Bigger than mine." She moved away from the door and into the living area, tipping her head back, outlined in warm golden light. Her shadow, inky black, moved across the wall as she laid a hand on the back of the sofa and ran her fingers across its edge. Her augmented hand rose as well and traced the back; she shifted her weight and looked all around, then back at him. Once more, her eyes darted down. "I didn't think your augs were so… extensive."

Suddenly self-conscious, he looked down at himself. "You didn't know?"

"It's not like you normally walk around shirtless at work, you know. I mean, I saw your arms when you got back from GARM, but I didn't know about…" She faced him, one hand on the sofa still while the other waved over her torso as he looked back up at her. "Did you get your ribs replaced? All of them?"

"No." He ran two fingers along the support bar that ran between his shoulders across his chest. "Pieces, though."

"What made you decide to do that? Most people don't go that far."

He met her eyes. "I didn't choose."

"Uh… oh. I'm sorry." She looked away. "What a way to start the evening, huh?"

"It's fine. I'd be surprised if you  _didn't_  ask." He paused and looked down at himself again, once more wondering if he should put on a shirt. "Aria… does this bother you at all? I mean, seeing me like this. Most people don't like it."

"No way, it's fine," she said, looking back at him. "I don't mind."

Something in her tone made him raise an eyebrow.

"What I mean," she continued abruptly, "is that I  _did_  wander in here kinda unannounced, and I can't expect you to be decent just in case I  _might_  show– I'm not saying you're  _not_  decent, of course, it's just… no, don't worry, it doesn't bother me at all." She took a quick breath. "At all." She grimaced. "Uh… mind if I sit?"

"No, go ahead." He watched her move around to the front of the sofa and sink into it, knowing the pleasant texture would help her relax. He felt a little awkward, standing there shirtless, and tried to remind himself that this  _was_  his apartment, but he was acutely aware of how very  _bare_  his torso was and didn't want to dwell on why.

"This place really is nice." She crossed a leg and leaned back. "My apartment's about half this size. Somebody in TF29 must've felt generous, giving you the biggest place in the block, huh?"

"I don't know." He forced himself to stop thinking about his state of undress – not an easy feat at all, unfortunately – and moved to sit on the sofa as well, in the corner, giving their bodies plenty of space. She glanced at him again, then over at the television, folding her hands in her lap.

"Thanks for letting me come by, at least." Her eyes closed as she let her head fall back. "I really hope we get something to do soon. I'm starting to feel pretty restless."

"Same. Need something to distract me from myself." He gazed at her for a long moment as he finished, tracing the outline of her features, noting how relaxed she appeared in that moment. Aria wasn't stunning. He wouldn't normally put her in the "beautiful" category, even. Yet, something about her pulled him in and calmed his mind.

"You know, Adam…" She opened her eyes, but didn't look at him. "…we barely know each other. We work together, in the same department now, and I barely know who you are."

"I tend to keep to myself."

"You do. Well, if you want to keep it that way, that's fine." The disappointment in her voice was mild, but present. "Just seems weird to come in your apartment and not talk personal. To me." Now she looked at him, but there was a furrow in her brow that hadn't been there before. "I mean, it's odd to me, not that you have to talk about them to me." Pause. "I mean…" She closed her eyes and sighed, rubbing a hand over her face and mumbling something.

"If there's something you wanna ask, just ask," he said, keeping his voice soft. The last thing he wanted to do was sound at all accusatory. "If it's not something I want to answer, I won't. You can't offend me."

"I could find a way," she muttered. "I'm doing great so far."

"Aria, try to relax. You're  _not_  bothering me."

Another sigh, deeper and longer than the first, escaped her, but at least she looked at him again. "Alright, let's start with something simple. What did you do before TF29? I was a Marine. You look like you've got training, too."

"I was a cop, in Detroit. You knew that."

"I knew  _that_  from the memo we were given before you signed on with us, yeah, but not what you did since."

He hesitated, then, "Security for Sarif Industries. That's who made my augs."

"Sarif, huh?" She sat up straight. "They made some of the best augs in the  _world_ , so I heard. Craftsmanship was supposed to be off the charts, and durability…" She whistled softly, then her eyes fell to his arms and hands. "You said you didn't choose to have this done. Can I… mind if I ask… why, then?"

"Terrorist attack on Sarif. It was get augmented, or die."

Slow nod. "Okay, that's… fair." Another pause. "Do you like it here in Prague?"

"It's alright, I guess. Could be better, if Augs weren't treated so badly, but as it stands, it's fine enough." He shook his head. "At least it's quiet right now. Things are bad all over, though, from what I heard. The Dubai op really put it all in perspective. Seeing all those people, just left out to rot, treated like something less than human, just because they had augmentations. It really…" He stopped, not sure where that had come from, knowing that if he didn't stop talking, more would come spilling out that probably shouldn't.

"I can't imagine how that must've been for you, seeing all those people, their bodies, not even buried. I saw some of the images and read the after-action report. It sounded so awful." She pulled both legs up and crossed them on the sofa, lacing her fingers together. "It reminded me… it was like what I saw after the Aug Incident, except those bodies were pretty fresh. That's how I lost my arm."

Adam frowned. "You lost your arm during the Incident?"

"Yeah." She raised that arm and flexed the fingers, servos and hydraulics whirring in the quiet. "I was attacked. Almost got my arm torn completely off. As it was, left it mangled beyond standard medical treatment. Despite everything, I was able to get treatment at a LIMB Clinic. Got fitted with TYM." That hand lowered back to the sofa. "That clinic shuttered less than four months later, and the price of Neuropyzene skyrocketed. It was bad."

"Yeah, I… heard about that." The aftermath of the Incident was a blurred mess to him, with only Panchaea being at all clear, while he could vaguely recall flashes of memory from being dragged out of the sea or coming to for mere moments within Facility 451. All he knew of that year was what he had heard from news articles and secondhand accounts.

"You're so heavily augmented that it must've been particularly bad for you." Her eyes returned to his. "I only had to deal with a single arm that I could hide if I was careful, but…  _you_ …"

"Like I said, people normally don't like it."

"Can't say I blame them. I mean, it's pretty extensive, and you look pretty scary most of the time." She punctuated those words with a small smile, but as he looked back at her, pondering how to respond, the smile suddenly vanished, and she pushed herself up to a standing position. "You know, this…" she began, but trailed off, shaking her head, and moved away.

He practically scrambled to his feet. "Aria? What are you–"

"It's late, and really, I didn't plan to stay very long." She wouldn't look at him as she returned to the entryway and picked up her coat. More water shook itself free as she moved to put it on. "I should get going."

"Already? You haven't even  _been_  here that long."

"Yeah, I know, but…" A soft snort escaped her, and she still didn't look at him. "This place is your sanctuary. You can get away from the world here. I get it. I do. I understand. And I'm invading."

The idea of her leaving made his stomach tight, and this time, he allowed himself to dwell on "why". No, he  _didn't_  know her that well, but in what time they had managed to carve out around each other, she had shown the truth of what she thought of him: just another person, whom she apparently feared to offend. The excuses were painfully transparent, covering her shame at having asked questions and spoken words that might be a transgression to him.

He didn't want her to leave. If she did, he was alone, and for the first time in months, he could admit to himself that he didn't  _want_  to be alone.

"Aria, you don't have to leave. It's not that late, and I doubt we're gonna get dragged out to work tomorrow."

"You never know." She zipped up the jacket.

"Aria… you can stay. Please."

A hand on the handle, she stopped, still not looking at him, but at least he had gotten her to hesitate. "I'm running my mouth and asking things I shouldn't. I respect you, Adam, and the last thing I want–"

"You'd know if you were bothering me. You're not."

Slowly, she turned her head, meeting his eyes. He stood in the living area still, aware of his pleading tone, more aware than ever of how exposed he was without something to cover the augmentations that marred his body, but the thought of letting her run away, leaving him cowering in the dark, terrified him. He hadn't even bothered to deploy the shields over his eyes, so now he stood, completely vulnerable before her, knowing it was too late to take any of it back.

"Do you really want me to stay?"

It took a moment to find his voice. "Only if you want to. I won't make you."

While her hand remained where it was, she hadn't made any more movements toward leaving. "I'd like to, actually," she said, in a small, hesitant voice, her eyes never leaving his. "I'm not… I mean, I'm not sure what we could do, but I mean… I would love to stay, if you'll have me, Adam."

The tension he hadn't even realized had built up dissipated from his body at her words. "I would. But I should probably put on a shirt. This is probably kind of awkward for you."

"Please do– ah, you don't have to, really." The words came out  _far_  too quickly, and he raised an eyebrow at her, once more very aware of his undress, but now finding it amusing more than anything as she ducked her chin and dropped her hand back to her side. "Uh, bu– it's okay, th– it doesn't matter. Do what you want."

He hated being stared at, hated when people were reminded of what he was, hated the idea of being objectified as a weapon or a tool for others to use… but  _this_  didn't trouble him at all. "Then I'll just… leave it off for now," he said, and sat back down. "Hey, there's bound to be something on TV."

"Yeah, definitely." She unzipped her jacket, hung it back up, removed her gloves, and returned to the sofa. He had chosen to sit closer to the center, near his usual spot, right arm resting over the back, so she sat to his left, leaving at least a body's worth of distance between them, but close enough that he took notice.

"Here." He lightly tossed her the remote, which she caught despite her surprise. "Find something."

A fresh smile broke out across her lips. "Sure." As she juggled the remote a moment before turning the TV on, she looked back at him, once more glancing up and down. "You don't look scary, Adam, not to me. Sorry if it came out that way. You look… you look good. Strong. Healthy. Good shape.  _Good_ , is what I mean."

He met her eyes, raised an eyebrow in amusement, and said, "Thanks."


	2. Part II

**_Part II_ **

The next day, they were called into TF29 about some sort of threat nobody knew much about yet, including where it would happen or even when. With murky details and little to go on, MacReady just directed them to "start digging" and sent out all the information he had available before shutting himself in his office once again. Everyone in the Counterterrorism unit went right to work at first, but within a few hours, most of them were sagging in their chairs and staring at the wall, waiting for something interesting to happen.

He had been at his desk for nearly four hours, poring through emails, attack maps, and news articles about the European Union, hunting for any information that could be helpful. Though he hated to do it, he used his access to the Palisade Breach to dig for even more information, only to find significant changes had occurred: patches, updates, code changes, firewall adjustments, improvements to the IDS...

By the end of those four hours, he had finally ended up with his head down on the desk, eyes closed, trying very hard not to lose what was left of his patience. Going out in the field, he could do. Moving around, he liked. Sitting and parsing through information and filing paperwork... he  _hated_  that.

A rustle of fabric snapped him out of his stupor. "Having fun yet?" Aria's voice held a twinge of amusement.

Without lifting his head, he just groaned.

"Oh, come on, it's not  _that_  bad. You've got a nice chair and a... nice cubbyhole. It's not really an office, but whatever. Oh, and it's a pleasant seventy degrees. Well, mostly pleasant." When he still didn't move, he felt her poke the back of his shoulder. "Adam, sit up, or you'll crick your neck."

With great reluctance, he did so, settling back in the chair and looking up at her. "Please tell me it's time to go home."

"Not even close." She shook her head. "It's only ten. Lunchtime."

He blinked, though she couldn't see it. "Already?"

"Yeah. I was just headed down to the kitchen, but I saw you over here like this and wanted to make sure you were doing okay." She formed air quotes. "What passes for a 'kitchen', anyway."

"You're tellin' me." He glanced past her to find several other desks empty. "Mind if I go with you? Could use a break."

A smile reached her lips before she immediately stifled it. "Of course."

He rose from his chair with some difficulty, feeling the remaining bone vertebrae in his neck crack as he moved. The joints of his augs didn't stiffen the same way as bone and sinew did, but they could lock if left in one spot for too long, and took a little more effort than usual to move as he followed her, ignoring the occasional sidelong glance.

One of the employees was hard at work scrubbing dried foodstuff out of the microwave, giving them a grimace as they approached, before going back to it. "I never saw you come down here," Aria said. "You ever leave your desk?"

"Not usually." He studied her a moment. "Been watching me?"

"No!" Even she seemed to realize how quickly the word came out, giving the microwave employee a quick, sidelong glance before returning to him. "Well, I happen to notice things, that's all."

"Like me facedown on my desk?"

Her brow wrinkled. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, Aria, that's not what I– it's not what I meant." Letting his guard slip a notch, he moved a little closer to lean against the counter, folding his arms. "You notice things," he told her, softly. "You notice me."

She blinked, then turned to the fridge beside him and opened it, pulling out a container with her name written in thick silver pen atop it. For a moment, he wondered what had driven him to say such a thing, and so openly – speaking out in such a way within earshot of others made him anxious, and was a little unlike him, but it wasn't an  _unpleasant_  anxiety. He found it difficult to care what others might think.

Here was a woman who did not fear him, had sat with him for nearly two hours in comfortable quiet last night, and made obvious efforts to spend more time with him. It frayed his nerves, perplexed him, and made him feel...  _warm_.

"Nothing for you?" Her voice was just as soft.

"Not feelin' it," he murmured, watching her peel the lid off and prod at what seemed to be a mixture of shredded meat and mixed vegetables. Remembering the lack of variety at home, he had a little trouble taking his eyes off the vivid colors that permeated the contents of the container. "I'll be okay for now."

She crunched on a mouthful of the salad and stood in silence for a bit, both of them watching the employee apply a liberal amount of elbow grease to the inside of the microwave, now swearing under her breath and digging in with what seemed to be a butter knife. After a minute of this, she hissed and stood, rubbing her shoulder, then stalked off, leaving them the only two people in the kitchen area, with plenty of space between them and the desks.

Adam tried to think of what else to say, but his mind consumed itself with thoughts. Fresh doubts had begun to well up within. The Juggernaut Collective had helped him uncover some of the truth of TF29's hierarchy, and it seemed that the Illuminati had their hands in everything it did. Were they somehow using Aria to get close to him? She seemed genuine, but how many times had he been taken in by such things?

The warmth began to fade. What if she wasn't what she seemed to be? What if she was a  _plant_ , intended for  _him_?

"Hey, Adam, you okay?" She nudged him with an elbow. "What's eating you?"

The doubts wouldn't go away. "It's nothing."

Her brow furrowed. "No, it's not."

"Really, it's nothing." The lie tasted sour on his tongue, and he had to battle the sudden urge to walk away. What if she  _was_  some sort of plant for him? What if she was playing him, pretending to like him, trying to get close, only to whisper to the shadows or knife him in the back when he least expected?

"Hey..." She immediately set the container aside and raised a hand to his arm.

The shock from the contact, despite coming through a layer of strong fabric and landing on a metal arm, raced through his body and down his spine, all the way to his fingertips, sending all his whirling thoughts into total silence. How long had it been since someone had touched him so gently, so willingly, showing no fear of his augs or what he  _was_...

His gaze met hers. There was nothing at all in her eyes but unwavering, honest concern.

Something cracked, deep inside him, and tied a knot around his throat. "I'm fine," he said, but the words came out as though he had journeyed for days across a desert, and her touch was the oasis he had so long sought.

No, he realized, she was no plant. She was just  _Aria_.

For a moment, she lightly squeezed his arm, and he didn't want her to let go. "I'm not convinced," she said at last, searching his eyes– his  _shields_ , he remembered, since he didn't take them down here, outside the safety of his sanctuary, out where he could be exposed to the unfeeling world. "I mean, after the way you were acting last night, I thought... maybe..."

"Not here." It hurt him to say the words, but now certainly wasn't the best time to go soul-searching with her, even though the ache in his heart pleaded with him to let her continue. "Another time."

Her hand slid a little further down, closer to his elbow. Warmth spread across that arm, sending his heart racing and his chest tight, never wanting her to let go, recognizing the foolishness of it, knowing how ridiculous it was, but not caring, because his mind was full of too many thoughts, and she loosened the knots. "Should I come by again tonight?"

He couldn't gather his thoughts. "I..."

A moment passed, and then she stepped back, hand falling away, an icy chill replacing her warmth. It felt like a knife in his heart. "It's okay. If you'd rather be alone, I understand. I'm sorry if..." She ducked her head. "Look, we're teammates, same rank and the only Augs in this branch. It's been... my fault, you know, all of this. I haven't kept this very professional, and if you ask me to, I'll back off. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

Swallowing against the knot in his throat, he reached for her shoulder, lightly resting a hand there, drawing her eyes back to him. "You can come by any time you want," he said, tone firm, and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "And... you're not making me uncomfortable."

For a moment, her gaze fell to the floor, then returned, peering through long lashes to study him. The temptation to retract the shields was powerful. "Okay," she said. "I guess we'll just... see how this goes."

He smiled at her. "I think so."

She returned the smile with one of her own, though it was soft and shy, as she went back to her salad. "Let's not talk about work for a minute," she said. "I'm still trying to process what we found on TV."

The smile became a smirk. "Yeah, it was definitely weird. Can't even remember what it was called, and not sure if I'd ever watch it again." All he could distinctly remember was a gigantic, sentient insect acting as a spaceship for its crew, blowing up worlds and using the remains as food.

"I find stuff like that all the time around here. Europe doesn't have quite the same broadcast standards as America."

"Yeah, I noticed that." He shifted his weight. "What about when you're  _not_  watching TV?"

"Then... I read. Or mess with my plants."

"What, no pets? No one else?"

"No, just me, my books, and my flowers." She took another bite, chewed, and swallowed before finally looking back up at him. "I've had boyfriends in the past, and I have two brothers, but I left all that at home, before the Marines. My parents are getting up there in age." She shrugged. "What about you?"

"Left behind what counts as family in Detroit." For a moment, he thought of Michelle Walthers and wondered if she was still alive and well, after all that had happened. His mind then drifted to his old colleagues, most of which to whom he had no idea what had happened. Sarif and Pritchard were accounted for, but what about the others?

It stung to know he hadn't learned and remembered as many names as he'd thought. What was the name of the woman at the front desk? The janitor constantly cleaning fingerprints off the interior glass? The maintenance staff who kept the plants watered and looking lively, even where the sun couldn't normally reach?

What had happened to the building, in the end?

"I worked with a lot of people there, and I don't know what happened to most of them," he admitted. "I was out of action for two years after the Incident, and half of it I... don't wanna talk about." The memory of waking briefly in an unfamiliar room in Alaska, the blurred face of a nurse studying him, rose goosebumps on his skin.

"It's fine, don't worry about it. We definitely don't know each other well enough to go there." She took another bite.

"That's true, yeah. But, you know, I'd  _like_  to get to know you better, since we're working together now and all." It was as good a reason as any, and perfectly believable to anyone who happened to be listening – even to her, when she glanced at him and smiled a little bit wider. He liked when she did that.

"Okay, well, the first step to doing that is finding time  _outside_  of work to... you know, hang out. Prague has lots of interesting things. The nightlife is supposed to be superb."

"Sure, but just... no raves," he muttered. "I'm really not one for being around a lot of people."

"I'm not either, Adam, so we have  _that_  in common." A pause, then, "Have you seen the waterfront at night? The Blade looks so beautiful jutting out over the water. It's so blue."

"Yeah, I have. It's definitely a sight worth seeing. Though that restaurant only serves unaugmented people."

"So? They can't stop us from just standing there, can they?"

He thought of the waterfront, the lapping waves, the glow of the Blade in the fog, the dagger-sharp winds cutting into his skin, and liked the idea. Though exposed to prying eyes, they could still pass for colleagues or friends, provided they kept their wits about them. The last thing he needed to do was drag her down into his world, expose her to danger, get her hurt. "No, they can't, you're right." He nodded. "When do you want to meet?"

"How about... around sundown? That's not that long after we get off work, and it'll be really pretty around dusk."

"And it's not that far." He nodded. "If I get out first, I'll wait for you there. You'll see me."

"I can't miss you, either." She raised an eyebrow. "You sure about this?"

"Aria, I haven't had a..." He hesitated, anxiety tying his stomach in a knot, then said, "I haven't had a friend in a long time. Can't even recall the last person I could've called such. We might not know each other enough to call it a real friendship, but it has to start somewhere, right? Can you think of a better way?"

The fork tapped the inside of the container, drawing his attention. "Point. It's a date. Not a date. Not an  _actual_  date, just a–"

"It kind of is," he said, gently cutting her off. "Besides, I offered, didn't I?"

She grimaced. "Yeah, but–"

"You know, you don't have to worry about me  _all_  the time," he teased, trying not to let his amusement reach his face, but knowing it hadn't worked so well when she averted her eyes, cheeks turning a little pink. "I'll meet you there, Aria, right after work. Don't leave me hanging."

"I won't. And, Adam..." She looked up at him. "...thanks."

"Sure," he told her, and turned away, heading back toward his desk despite not really wanting to. The chance to stretch his legs had been a welcome one, but as he climbed the stairs again, he realized that what he would  _rather_  do was spend his entire break standing next to her, talking. He didn't know her well enough to call "friend", he reminded himself, but he also had trouble denying what roiled within – the light tug of her smile on his heart, the spark that raced through him when she touched him, the way her voice soothed his nerves while simultaneously setting them alight.

Shame burned like bile at the back of his throat. He couldn't be so secretly desperate for companionship that he would let himself be drawn to her like this, would he?

He spent the rest of the day going through yet more information, case files, and old archives, desperately trying to find anything they could use, but his mind drifted. He wondered how reasonable it really was to go to the waterfront with her, enjoying the sunset and the beauty of the evening with a woman who had made it quite clear she liked his company. He  _feared_  pulling her into his world, where he flinched at shadows and always expected to find a knife in his back. He didn't want her to know about Facility 451, or Megan, or Panchaea. He didn't want her to know how savage the transformation into an Aug had been, or how he had reacted to seeing himself for the first time. He didn't want her to become a target of the Illuminati, or hurt, or  _killed_  because of him.

Close to the end of his shift, he leaned on the desk, propped on his elbows, and buried his face in both hands.

Everything he touched eventually died. It eventually abandoned him.

And she would, too. It was inevitable.

He dug his fingers into his hair, then forced himself to sit up straight again. Now wasn't the time for self-pity, or to think of a future he might not even live to see. Now, he had to focus on the here, the  _what is_ , so that what  _will be_  would eventually come to pass. Securing the future, when he sensed chaos on the horizon, was priority one.

But his mind drifted back to her hand on his arm, the softness of her voice, how she smiled and made him forget his worries.

How many times she had worried about  _him_ , a man no one ever cared about?

When the end of this shift came, he stayed where he was. Anxiety he wasn't used to kept him frozen in place, as the thought of going out there and tangling his life up with someone else's left his body too weak to stand. He knew where this could end up course. Open  _this_  door, and he would be risking exposing his heart all over again, possibly even having it torn apart by the callous hand of the future.

He let himself sink down to the desk, chin resting on crossed arms, listening to the others get up and mill about or leave their desks altogether. He turned his head to rest his cheek on his forearms and close his eyes, but a creeping fear left his spine frigid and his knees too weak to stand.

He  _could_  just slip out, with an excuse,  _any_  excuse, not to go. Right now wasn't a good time, anyway – he had been laid bare by the claws in his own mind. Any excuse would work, probably.

But if he did, he would disappoint her. She had been far too kind to him to be lied to.

Shame flooded him. She had already seen him at his most exposed, and already begun to tread where no one had in  _years_.

He forced himself up out of the chair, locking his terminal, and studied his trembling hands for a long moment.

Then he turned, and left the facility with his chin up and shoulders back.

It wasn't far to the waterfront from the Praha Dovos office. The sun had begun to set, bright colors and a chilly breeze settling across the city. The lights had begun to glow in the shadows, while flecks of white drifted lazily out of the gold-painted clouds high above. A few drifted through his peripheral vision as he walked.

If he turned, right now, he could avoid it all. He could go back to his apartment, shut away the world, and be alone.

It was fear, raw and primal, that kept his mind and heart racing.

Did he dare risk opening that door?

He followed the cobblestone road up to the concrete path that ran over the water, hesitating when he saw a woman at the rail, facing the water, looking up at the Blade. Once more, her hair was partially down, and the breeze toyed with it, her expression neutral except for a faint frown that touched her brow. "Aria?"

She faced him, and her features lit up like the sunset blazing in the sky. "You made it."

"Told you I would, didn't I?" He joined her at the railing and leaned on it, looking down at the water. "Been here long?"

"Not too." She shook her head. "Just glad you could make it. I saw you at your desk on my way out, but I didn't want to bother you, so I just left. Figured you'd come if you still wanted."

"Of course I wanted." They were perhaps two hands' breadths apart at the elbows now. "You know, that water's  _way_  colder than it looks. Did I tell you I managed to break into one of those Blades over there?" He pointed down the river.

Her eyes met his and went wide. "You got into a Blade? For real?"

"I did. To get out, though, I had to drop some several hundred feet into the river. Without my augs, I probably wouldn't have survived it, to be honest. It still hurt when I landed. Almost knocked me out." He lowered his hand back to the rail. "I wouldn't go back into one of those things anytime soon, though."

"I've never been anywhere near Palisade Bank's branch here in Prague, but I've seen the commercials. They're basically just a massive... what, datacenter?" She shrugged. "It's supposed to be secure, but they have it all connected to the internet. Chang talks about it sometimes. Says if they were serious, there'd be  _no_  outside connection whatsoever."

"He's got a good point. More than he knows."

She turned to lean back against the rail, elbows resting atop it, and looked around. The breeze made her hair sift around her shoulders. "I suggested coming out here, and I don't have any idea what to do now that we're here," she muttered, looking sheepish and shaking her head. "Wasn't thinking that far ahead."

"Don't worry about it. We can just... you know, wander around a while, too. When I'm running around, I never really stop to look. Maybe we'll see something interesting." He thought a moment. "You know, if we go south, there's this place called Tech Noir, run by this quirky geeky type. He'd probably like you."

"Oh," she said, looking at him again, "you going to start introducing me to your friends now?"

A pause, then, "If you want to think of it that way... sure."

They moved away from the waterfront together, crossing the street to the sidewalk on the far side. At first, he let her do most of the talking, occasionally responding to her with simple answers or interjections, but content to listen to her voice. It was such a soft, warm, sweet voice, yet the tone lurking below was one made of iron, reminding him that he was dealing with a former Marine who had seen as much action as he likely had.

As they walked, they ended up nowhere in particular – following the streets, trying their best to ignore the cold air creeping down their backs, the sunlight slowly fading. She pointed out flowers and talked about what kind they were, and he asked what her favorite was. Hyacinths, she said, particularly the deep purple ones. That prompted her to ask  _him_  if he had a favorite, and he told her he liked roses. "That fits," was her response, as she chewed the inside of her lip, her almost-permanent smile widening further.

More thin snowflakes drifted out of the sky. The sunset faded to bronze and red; he forgot his reasons for wandering, content with her company. It t _errified_  him. He felt pulled two ways. On one hand, he wanted to push her away, to run, because she could get hurt if she got too close to his world, and why would he allow that?

On the other... he just wanted to be  _close_  to her. He wanted to pretend everything was okay, and when she smiled, and worried, and gave him her attention, he could  _believe_  it.

By the time he snapped back to reality, the breeze had stilled, but the air had gone completely cold. He looked around to find they had somehow made a circle around this part of Prague, ending up now on the east side near the Red Light District. Aria didn't seem at all bothered by this, stopping with her hands in her pockets and head tipped back, eyes closed, as thin snowflakes drifted past her face and landed on her cheeks.

Adam stared at her, his heart trying to creep up into his throat and escape. He didn't even know what time it was, only that it was somehow late enough for this district to be open.

"Now my legs hurt," she muttered, but she hadn't stopped smiling. "Thanks for spending time with me tonight."

"Yeah, well, don't mention it."

Eyes opening, she looked at him again. "I mean, it wasn't anything exciting, I know. But I had fun."

Common sense screamed at him.  _Do not open that door_. If he let her back into the one place in the entire world where he could still shut himself away, he wasn't sure that he could keep himself safe. Wasn't sure he  _wanted_  to. The high of her presence was ephemeral. It would fade when he closed his eyes.

But his heart took over his tongue, and foolish words came out instead. "So did I," he said, earnestly. "Thanks."

She looked away a moment, then back to him. "You're welcome."

Then he reached into his pockets to block the chilly air as it curled up and around his arms, under the thick fabric of the coat, and felt something brush his fingertips. As he brushed his fingertips over it, he recognized the smooth texture and oddly-shaped cap as belonging to a Neuropozyne bottle. He kept whatever ones he could find to use as bargaining chips, sell for credits, or give to those who needed them, and had a small stash in his apartment, tucked in the wall panel, that he plucked a bottle or two from and hid in a pocket.

"Aria," he murmured, "you said you need more Neuropozyne than normal Augs, right?"

"Yeah. It doesn't affect anything else. Just makes glial tissue build up more rapidly, and with as expensive as that stuff's gotten, having to take it twice or more a week is..." She sighed and shook her head.

"I'm asking because... well..." He curled his fingers around the bottle, then moved to the side of the Red Light District's entrance, out of immediate sight of anyone who might care, and presented it to her. "Here. Extra."

Aria took the bottle from him. "Wow, really? Thanks. Every little bit helps."

He moved a little closer and bent his head down toward hers. "There's more in my apartment. I've got a stash of it, just for occasions like this. Since you're out in the field now, would it help you?"

Her eyes jumped to his. "Adam, don't  _you_  need it?"

"You won't believe me if tell you I actually don't, will you? Take it. It's just stuff I've collected over time. I can even give you everything I have at home, if you want."

"You don't  _need_..." She trailed off, then looked between him and the bottle a moment. "This can be better spent elsewhere."

"Can it? You don't think an expert marksman and skilled field operative should have it?"

A soft snort escaped her. "Other people need this–"

One hand reached out for hers and closed her fingers around the bottle, then gently pushed it back toward her chest until she curled it up to clutch it against her breast. His fingers lingered on her wrist a beat longer than necessary, but he kept his expression stern as he met her eyes. "I'd  _prefer_  someone like you getting it. Wouldn't want you getting into a lot of pain or something and not being able to watch my six, right?"

"Adam," she sighed, but he cut her off again.

"Besides, you keep worrying about me and telling me to be careful. Since we're on the same team now, doesn't it help that you're able to just, well,  _be_  there, and make sure I'm okay yourself?"

"Yeah, well,  _someone_  has to make sure you don't get yourself shot." She lowered the bottle to her side, then slipped it into a pocket and zipped it closed. "You made your point. Thanks."

He gave her a half-smile that she shook her head at. "So, what next?"

"I actually wanted to ask you something." Leaning back, hands in her pockets, she rested the back of her shoulders against the nearest building. "I wanted to talk to you a little about the London op, and what's happened since then." As she spoke, he moved a little closer to stand near her side, dropping the shields. "What exactly happened with Marchenko? How'd you get him?"

"Easily enough." He shrugged. "I waited until he wasn't paying attention, tasered him, and knocked him out. For as big as he is, he sure went down fast."

"That wasn't what I expected to hear," she said, but smiled a little. "What about the rest of the op? How'd it go?"

"Aria, I know you've read the memos, and you  _were_  present at the debrief."

"I know, but that's official. I wanted to hear your side."

He gazed at her a moment, searching her eyes, and she looked back, brow slightly knitted. "I've given my account. Everyone wants to know how Prague's only Aug agent did, so I indulged." Again, he shrugged. "What about you, Aria? How'd things go for you?"

Her gaze stayed on his a long moment before she looked away. "I forgot how stressful it can be out in the field, but in a good way. Out there, I had MacReady directing us, and my instincts to follow. We got shot at once or twice, and let's not forget the explosion in the stairwell that idiot walked right into." The corner of her lips quirked a little. "We took out a lot of guards from that side. It felt good." She lifted her right arm and closed the metal fingers into a fist, palm up. "After I got this thing, I thought I'd never be as good as I was, but then I decided I wouldn't let that stop me from trying. It was hard, but I did it." Now she looked at him. "And  _you_  had it worse."

"Yeah, it was... it was tough at times." He hid his wince at the memories. "But, I guess we both made out okay. We're both alive because we didn't let what happened stop us."

"Still can't believe you don't need Neuropozene. That's incredible. Do you know why?"

"Genetic quirk, just the opposite of yours. I don't know how many others like me there are, if any. It... was part of the reason I was augmented to this extent. I know you saw me shirtless, but you have no idea still what all was stuffed into my body. It took six months before I could even  _move_  right."

She winced. "I remember having to get used to my arm. It was like I was... I don't know, a stranger in my own body. Like someone else controlled that thing. Can't imagine what it was like for  _you_."

The memory of a shattered mirror hanging on his bathroom wall came to him, making him shiver. The first time had seen himself in the pristine glass had been such a shock that he had lashed out without thinking, sending waves of pain up into his body, before he collapsed on the floor, curled up and breaking down.

"Not good," was his summary. "But you lost yours in the Incident, right?"

"Yeah. I was attacked. Took me months of rehabilitation. Months of getting over... what happened. I can still–" Her arms wrapped around her torso, fingers gripping tightly. "Sorry, I just don't wanna... talk about it right now."

"No, no, it's fine. We all lost something then."

Something in his voice must have caught her attention. "Adam?"

Memories flickered through his mind, reminding him of all that was lost and all he could still lose. Megan dragged off into the dark. The photo of Kubrick he still kept on his coffee table. Crushed in the cold of the Atlantic after Panchaea collapsed around him. Waking up an alien in a body he didn't know. The slurs thrown at his back, the sympathy of those who said he had been beautiful the way he was, the raw hate in the eyes around him.

The intensity of his desire to open up to  _someone_ , to  _her_ , startled and terrified him, so much so that he clamped down on the emotions and choked them off. "Nothing, Aria, forget it."

"I get it," she said gently, nodding. "It's okay."

Hearing the honest empathy, the whisper of haunted memories, in her voice made his heart hurt. Would it be so bad to open up to her? What if  _she_  needed him as he had begun to find himself needing  _her_?

But he didn't speak further on the matter, instead giving her a thin smile, as silent understanding passed between them.

* * *

The next evening, after another long shift of parsing data, reading over memos, and listening to a brief on something else going on in the world, he met up with her again and ventured out into the city as the light began to fade. This time, he had a plan, and refused to let the doubts crowd it out: he was going to show her some of the places he had found tucked away in the narrow streets, and he wasn't going to let anyone stop them.

The first place they ended up in was a tiny cafe that had more people than seemed possible crammed into it – a lively, bustling place full of interesting scents and sounds, where the cooks shouted at each other and everyone, even Augs, were welcome to come in. An officer outside shot the two of them a dirty look, but the one standing beside them gave a light  _whack_  with the butt of a rifle and ended it right there.

It was in this tiny place that Adam was introduced to a dish he at first didn't know what to make of: svickova, prepared on a plate with fruit and some sort of sauce, which Aria insisted on him trying. When he expressed skepticism, she assured him it wasn't as weird as it sounded, and it would help him loosen up. She selected a hearty potato soup, which they then took to a table in the corner, out of the way of foot traffic. They split the bill, despite his offer to cover both of them, but she stood her ground, telling him that his company was payment enough.

That had been enough to get him to look away, and to tinge her cheeks faintly pink.

The meal was a little odd, but satisfying and filling, lifting his spirits as they returned to the city. The next stop they made was Tech Noir, where Costache smiled from ear to ear at seeing him again. Almost immediately, though, he noticed Aria and changed his tune, asking who she was, then telling her she had made a "good choice of hardware". This earned a rather severe look from Adam, but Aria grinned, and the tension vanished.

And Adam grew quiet. He listened to her talk, eyes wandering to hers when she stopped for even a moment, and felt anxious knots in his gut whenever she flashed him a quick, shy smile. He stayed close to her, chastising himself for it, but lacking the strength to give their bodies any real space.

Both the Juggernaut Collective and TF29 recognized him as a "lone wolf" type. He wondered what was happening.

"Ever seen the Palisade Bank plaza?" he said.

"No. Just seen pictures. Why?"

"It looks... pretty at night. You interested?"

Aria looked at him, half-smiled, and nodded. He led the way to the northwest section of the city, past the entrance to the metro, and under an archway lit with soft yellowish light into Palisade's plaza. Surrounded by small shop, cafes, high-rise apartments, and the bank's towering central building, it burst with color.

Beneath the stone-eyed stare of the bank's facade, he felt unease sift through his body and frowned at the door.

"Incredible." She folded her arms. "Chang told me about this. Said he spent his own share of time beating on the Lavawall, and had fun doing it, but never got anywhere." She spoke just loudly enough for him to hear, but not for her voice to carry clearly to anyone nearby. "It's really pretty, though. Blue's their color."

"Did you see the sculptures when we came in? The waterfalls?"

Turning, she gazed at the plaza's monument, then moved toward them before hoisting herself up onto one of the cubes. Water cascaded down the side in a ribbon that glittered in the light; he followed with some reluctance, wondering why he was allowing himself to pursue her like a child.

Reaching the highest point she could, she sat on the edge and waited for him to climb up beside her.

"Wow, look at this view. Even just this little plaza is pretty. I wonder what it's like from the higher rooftops." She looked up at the darkening sky a few moments. "So much of Prague is cut off from us Augs." Crossing her ankles, she settled back on her hands. "I heard the rest of the city is... amazing."

"Yeah, well, I'd say the view from here is just fine. Any higher, and we'd risk you getting hurt."

"Right, yeah, no landing system like yours."

"It's bad enough you coming up  _here_. If you fall, I won't–"

"Adam, stop." She gently shoved his shoulder. "I've got great balance, and I won't push myself further than I can go. It's kind of funny when  _you_  worry about  _me_ , though."

A pause, then, "What's funny about it?"

The splashing of the waterfalls filled the silence, along with the sound of nightlife and patrolling officers' boots on the pavement. She brought both legs up and crossed them. "I'm always worried about  _you_. You know, the toughest, meanest agent in the Prague branch? The only agent besides myself who's augmented, and is pretty much a walking armory? And then you turn it around and worry about  _me_ , the nobody field agent with a bum arm." Her chin dropped to her chest. "Look, Adam, like I said before, I haven't been keeping this... all that professional. It's just... from the second I saw you, I just... I was curious. You were really intriguing, and that bled into how I treated you."

Knowing exactly what she referred to didn't help him relax, yet the tension came from sources that included ones that were hardly  _unpleasant_. "You were nice to me. That's not a problem. Like I said, I haven't had a friend in a long time."

Another pause followed, then, "A friend, huh? Good."

"You sound a little disappointed."

"What? No, there's... no, Adam, not like that. Let's just... enjoy the view a bit." She slung both legs over the side of the cube again, then crossed one over the other and rested her hands on that knee. They sat facing the east, allowing them to see the Blades over the tops of the buildings, the entire plaza, and the bank's facade with ease. "I'm really glad you came out here with me, though. I was hoping to get to know you better."

"Have to start somewhere," he muttered.

Once the chill had begun to settle into their bodies, they climbed back down to the ground and continued on. More snow fell out of the sky, winking in the light as each flake drifted to the ground, and began to form piles in the shadowy corners of the roads and buildings. Where swaths of light did fall, the snow glittered; when disturbed, it swirled, dry and crystalline, until it found a place to settle again and be left alone.

For a time, they spoke quietly, but eventually, their words faded into silence, and they simply walked, hands in their pockets, him keeping his strides short enough to stay with her.

No words were needed. Not this time.

Every so often, they stopped to watch something happening – an Aug apprehended for some untold reason, a permit being checked, a police truck being loaded up with mysterious boxes, a woman sweeping her stoop of leaves and snow, a dog tugging its owner by the leash down the chilly streets.

Prague was full of people. Full of lives. These glimpses were all he could get out of it, no matter how much he wished he could do more. All he could do was watch.

Aria eventually tugged him away when he stopped to watch an Aug be pushed to the ground by an officer while two more flanked him. She pulled on the arm of his coat, snapping him out of his trance-like state, and with regret flooding him, he could do nothing except follow her onward. If he did anything, it would just bring Prague's police force down on him, and what good would he be then?

Though it made him feel like a coward, he knew the right thing to do was keep walking.

For now, at least.

Without really realizing it, they ended up back at his apartment, the snow still coming down and piling up all around the courtyard and along the balconies. No one was out right now, leaving them the only two ascending the stairs to the top floor. When they reached the door, he stopped with a hand hovering over the keypad and looked at her.

One small step at a time.

"I'm not coming in this time. I should get going. It's late." She raised an eyebrow. "Your eyes are augmented, right? More of Sarif's work?"

He hadn't realized he'd taken the shields down. "Yeah, to both."

"They're really pretty."

For a second, he stared at her, then said, "Yeah, Sarif made the best in the world, once."

"It's more than that." Her eyes searched his. "They're pretty, but... you look sad. Like you're expecting something bad to happen, and you've already... you know, prepared for it."

Trying to alter his facial expression to remove that implication didn't seem to work. "I just..." was all that came out before he stared hopelessly at her, aware that his expression echoed how he felt... and what she had so cleanly said.

"Just wish I knew why," she said.

"It's..."  _Do not open that door_. "...complicated."

With the sort of hesitation that betrayed nervousness, her natural hand rose from its position at her side and drifted to his face. Though he knew better than to let it happen, he didn't shy away, even when he felt her skin brush across his cheek. He turned into it, without really meaning to, just slightly, but knew the battle was already lost when the sensation simultaneously loosened the knot in his gut and tightened a vise on his heart.

His right hand lifted to land on hers, fingers curling around her palm. The tip of her thumb brushed close to the corner of his mouth; an inch more, just  _one_ more...

"I expected your augs to be cold," she murmured. "They're... they're not."

As gently as he could, he lowered her hand from his face, his body trembling, knowing she could feel it, wishing he could allow her to continue, but he still held her hand. "Sarif's work." Speaking even in this soft of a tone felt like he stabbed the quiet with one of his blades. "Only the best for their chief of security."

Her fingers squeezed his. "Beautiful work."

For a long, long moment, they merely stood outside his apartment door, hand in hand, eyes locked. Then, slowly, piece by piece and drop by drop, the world returned, cold and dry against his skin, and her hand slid out of his. The icy chill left by her absence dug into him like talons. For a single moment of insanity, he thought that if just her light touch could do this to him, then if he ever found himself in her  _arms_ –

The return to lucidity left him wondering why he could have wondered such a thing.

Tucking her hands in her pockets, she flashed him a smile, then turned away, and he keyed in the code for his apartment and stepped inside. The interior felt warm and pleasant as he shrugged off his coat and closed the door.

When the door locked, he stopped and rested his forehead against it.

Had he moved too fast even for himself? What was it about her that drew him to her, that kept him wanting to come back to her side, that knotted his stomach when she smiled, that soothed his mind when she touched him? He had known dozens of women over the years, none of whom he had become intimate with since Megan, and yet...

He closed his eyes. Breathed deep.

One step always led to another. Could he stop what was happening? Did he even  _want_  to?

He stepped back and looked around at the shadowy, empty apartment, his sanctuary, that had been so readily intruded upon by a woman who smiled and touched him without fear. For the first time, he realized how very alone he had become. This place still felt like home, but he normally preferred others did not invade it.

He hoped for a new case, for  _something_  to distract him from himself and his thoughts, because if he sat in the silence and thought too much again, his mind would drift again.

Fear was a familiar friend. It felt comfortable and safe, even now, as it shed its skin into a new form.

Looking at the door, he both hoped against hope that tonight would be forgotten and she would not try again to tangle her personal life up with his, would not tempt and beckon him to come closer without even meaning to, and desperately wished that she would return soon.


End file.
